Bedlum and Broomsticks
by Nicholas Brimestone
Summary: A special birthday present for my mom. Enjoy! No flames please


**Summary:**

**The story behind Harry's 1****st**** Birthday according to Lily Potter**

**My mom is a big fan of the **_**Harry Potter**_** series, so I decided to write this for her birthday and dedicate it to her.**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!**

**Disclaimer:**

**I Do Not Own Harry Potter or the any other works. Enjoy**

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"_Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs... since the payment is pure love."_

_-Mildred B. Vermont_

The wind of the summer night blew gently against my face as I stood in the front lawn of my house. I leaned against the ancient stonewall as I peered into the horizon, illuminated by the tiny lights of Godric's Hollow.

It was a clear night, the first all week with the all others being dreary overcast. Harry would have loved this sight. I smiled as I thought of how amazed he'd looked, stretching his little arms towards the sky as if to drop hold of one of the stars. But he was upstairs sound asleep in his crib, almost mimicking his father who was asleep downstairs on the living room couch…

"Beautiful night"…or so I thought.

I looked over my shoulder at my husband James, surprised to see him up again. Usually once he fell asleep a troll could trash the house around him, and he wouldn't even stir.

I smiled at him, "I thought you were asleep for the night?"

He simply shrugged, came over, and leaned against the stonewall alongside me; staring at the little village we called home.

I stared at him for a moment memorized by his untidy black hair and hazel eyes. I may have not been a Seer, but I could tell that Harry was going to look just like his father when he got older.

"You still upset about tomorrow?" he asked

I sighed in response.

Tomorrow would be the 31st, Harry's 1st birthday and he would spend it in hiding from the world.

While I would be more than a fool to believe the Petunia and **her** family to even remember Harry's name, let alone send a birthday present; I had come to regard my friends in the Order as my family.

I knew James didn't like it either, sitting around while others were fighting was **not** his style; though the fact that Dumbledore was able to convince him to part with Invisibility Cloak, eliminating any late night excursions, was miracle in itself.

I inched over, threw both my arms around one of his, and snuggled my head into his shoulder.

Right now Remus or Sirius, two of James's oldest friends, cold be fighting or, God forbid, dying in order to protect our world, our son's world from the Death Eaters.

I really never could understand why Dumbledore made us go into hiding in the first place, he never told us why Harry had to be kept safe. I heard that Frank and Alice's son Neville was also in hiding, he was somewhere in the country with his grandmother.

Whatever the reason we were here now, safe from that madman and his fanatical group of murderers.

I knew it was important to remain hidden, but I wish at least Molly and Arthur could at least come. Their son Ronald was the same age as Harry and they loved to play together, I bet they'll be best friends when they're older. But I knew they couldn't, but it didn't hurt to wish.

I kissed James on the cheek and started to pull towards the house, "Let's go in" I said and we did.

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I AM GIONG TO KILL SIRIUS BLACK!

I'm seriously going to kill him.

I'm going to kill him, turn him into a Inferius (when I figure out how), and kill him again!

If I don't manage to kill him, I'm at least going to make sure he's in St. Mungo's until Harry's 13th birthday.

I watched Harry zip around the room as James chased him, even though he started over an hour ago. I had to admit even though I was upset at Sirius, I couldn't help but laugh, I got to see James Potter, a Seeker, get outrun by his son.

Still Sirius must of known what was going to happen. When you give the one-year old son of James Potter, a man still in puberty, a working toy broomstick. You have to know all hell is going to break loose.

Harry had already broken that horrible vase Petunia gave me for Christmas (not a big lost) on take off, and now he has made it his ambition to harass the cat as much as possible.

Old Bathilda had already came for tea and left, Harry's showboating (wonder where he got from *cough James) nearly gave her a bust hip. She just loves to dot on him, and said he was so much like his father.

I heard a loud thump, and saw Harry fly in James limping behind him. He must have slammed his leg into the table. I smiled at the thought of how ironic this was, especially when you factor in James and Sirius' "little" car chase with the Muggle police.

I knew that James was ecstatic about one thing, his son is going to best a great Quidditch player, like father like son.

I decided to get the camera out to send to Sirius, with a letter on his handiwork.

I have no doubt he is eagerly awaiting the news of Harry's attempted murder of our cat.

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**I have a special request for the readers.**

**I would like for my mom to know people love this story, so when you review include "Happy Birthday!" or Happy Birthday Joanne!"**

**Thanks!**


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